


Dreaming State (slipping through the hidden door)

by theonsfavouritetoy



Series: Theon Kink Bingo [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Oral Fixation, POV Theon Greyjoy, Robb is a good bro, Theon Kink Bingo, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song, fantasies, very explicit fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon kink bingo series #8
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Series: Theon Kink Bingo [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990951
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	Dreaming State (slipping through the hidden door)

**Author's Note:**

> Jon Snow's mouth. Need I say more?

Life isn’t fair, Theon’s always been of that opinion. If life would be fair he wouldn’t be here to begin with. He’d be at Pyke, smell the salt in the air instead of summer snows, he’d sail across the sea instead of riding through dense woods, he’d have his own salt wives by now – instead of being reduced to a wanton mess by one set of perfect, plush lips. And since life isn’t fair, those lips don’t belong to a whore he could buy, or a servant he could simply take. No, they have to belong to Winterfell’s bastard. 

Theon doesn’t recall when he'd first noticed the absolute perfection of Snow’s mouth. One day he had been nothing but a nuisance Theon hadn’t bothered to waste much thought on, the next Theon had found himself staring, completely entranced, at the way the bastard’s mouth moves when he talks, eats, pouts about some perceived injustice. He’s made his way into Theon’s dreams, fills every moment he spends in Snow’s company with agonizing fantasies. 

They’re a work of art, those lips. Plump, soft-looking, a delicious rosy colour, the lower lip being a tiny shade lighter than the upper lip. Theon wants to suck on those lips, worry them with his teeth until they’re red and swollen, wants to trace the perfect curve of them with his tongue. He wants them slick and shining, wants to see them stretched around his cock, forming the most perfect circle, wants to slide his cock in and out of them until he spills his seed right across that magnificent pout. 

It’s hell. Lately, Theon has taken to raiding the kitchens after everyone’s retired, having once again been too fixated on Snow’s mouth to be able to eat much himself. The way he bites into a piece of bread or meat, his lips closing around the bite as he tears it off, the rosy tongue flitting out every now and then to catch a drop of sauce from the corner of Snow’s mouth… the way Snow bites his lip when he sees Theon looking, confused and annoyed, the way he lets it slide free again, wet and red and delicious… 

It’s a fever, a malady Theon does his best to enhance whenever he gets the chance. It doesn’t take much, a few well-placed words about Snow’s parentage and the corners of that damnable mouth turn down, the lower lip sticking out, trembling ever so slightly… Theon makes sure he sits with a good view of Snow’s face at all meals, sometimes going as far as pushing his own fruits from the glass gardens towards Snow just so he can watch a little longer, see a few more plums vanishing between the plush lips, watching them get painted with violet stains, a smear of juice being licked away…

He wants to fuck that mouth, wants it so bad he feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to fist his hands in Snow’s curls, hold him in place as he thrusts into Snow’s mouth until he chokes on his own spit, until it runs down his chin, until his lips are a mess with saliva and seed. At night Theon takes himself in hand, picturing Snow’s mouth as it frowns, pouts, picturing his own cock as it slides in and out, and he spills over his hand in a matter of minutes. 

Life isn’t fair. There’s no chance in all seven hells that Theon will ever get to make these visions come true. He’ll never learn how Snow’s lips feel under his, if they’re as soft and delicious as they look, will never see them stretched around his prick. The knowledge is almost too much to bear, and still Theon seeks every opportunity to torture himself, almost stalking Snow in a desperate attempt to get more pouts, more sulky _Greyjoys_ from Snow’s mouth. And of course the bastard notices, drowned fuck, the whole of Winterfell has probably noticed by now. 

At dinner Snow looks up and sees Theon staring, his cheeks turning pink and his teeth digging into his lower lip in a way that makes Theon’s cock twitch in his breeches. Robb, sitting next to Snow, gives Theon an amused glance before bending his head to Snow, lowly whispering something in his ear that makes the blush worsen, something that makes Snow playfully shove Robb away – and then Snow smiles, a shy, tiny smile, and Theon grips the table as his prick swells so fast he feels dizzy. This is an entirely new sight, ever since Theon had started paying attention to Snow and his mouth, and its effect is baffling. 

It doesn’t last long; Snow mumbles something to Robb before he gives Theon a quick glance, cheeks darkening further as he moves up from the table and walks out. Theon stares after him, still dizzy, entirely caught up in a whole new set of fantasies involving Snow’s lips. He jumps when Robb suddenly clears his throat, leaning across the table to pat Theon’s arm. 

“You’ve got it bad, huh?” Robb grins, amiable and nonchalant. “Just a small piece of advice, Theon… you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Especially this particular fly.” 

Theon stares at Robb getting to his feet, merrily whistling to himself before he interrupts himself, still smiling his easygoing smile. 

“Don’t be fooled, Greyjoy. Should I ever have the tiniest notion of Jon being hurt in any conceivable way, you’re going to wish you were never born.”

And with that Robb fucking winks before he follows Snow out of the hall, leaving Theon with the peculiar feeling of having dreamed the whole exchange, and a new, devastating image in his mind, containing Snow, his mouth, and a jar of honey.


End file.
